


Trading Places

by geralehane



Series: clexa playlist collection [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-02
Updated: 2017-03-02
Packaged: 2018-09-27 19:45:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10043231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geralehane/pseuds/geralehane
Summary: clarke takes care of dapper!lexa using her own methods





	

**Author's Note:**

> check out [my website](http://geralehane.com/) for more of my works!
> 
> and follow me on:   
> [tumblr](http://geralehane.tumblr.com/)   
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/thegeralehane)  
> [instagram](https://www.instagram.com/thegeralehane)
> 
> enjoy your read!

“Hey, babe.” Clarke’s voice is lower today. Heavy with a promise of something more, a little more husky, a little deeper than usual. Lexa blinks, clutching the phone in her hand. 

Babe?

“Hello, Clarke,” she replies, trying to mask the surprise she’s feeling. “Everything okay?” 

Clarke’s chuckle is slow and amused. “Why wouldn’t it be?” 

“It’s been awhile since you called me during the day.” Lexa unbuttons her suit jacket and leans back in her chair, leather creaking and tension from the day’s stress slowly fading as she listens to her girlfriend.

“Are you busy right now?” 

Lexa wonders if Clarke can hear the smile in her voice. “Not really, no.” 

“You’re smiling.” Of course she can.

Clarke continues, in this new voice of hers that throws Lexa just a little, still - but in a good way, if that’s possible. “Can’t wait to see that smile in person,” she purrs. “Tonight, to be exact. I’ll pick you up at eight.” 

Lexa blinks again. “Pick me up?” 

She can practically hear Clarke trying not to laugh. “Yup. PIck you up. Wear something nice.” 

Well. She can’t let this one go. “Clarke. I always wear something nice.” She touches her tie. Smoothes it over, trails her fingers to the hem of her waistcoat, tugs on it to straighten it out. 

“Don’t I know it,” is Clarke’s reply, breathy and low. Lexa feels - interesting. A little bare, more than a little thrown. “See you at eight, beautiful.” 

She’s left listening to the dial tone, a disbelieving, confused smile on her lips. 

//

It’s not that them going on a date is anything out of the ordinary. But Clarke’s manner of asking her out is. They’ve been together for two months now - two incredible, amazing months - and Lexa’s grown used to being the main initiator. And she doesn’t mind, not at all - she loves taking care of Clarke. 

(She might love Clarke, just a little bit. With intensity that’s totally appropriate for two months of dating.) 

God, Lexa, at least don’t lie to yourself. She’s been a goner pretty much since she first laid eyes on Clarke Griffin. Who wouldn’t be? 

(Lots of people, luckily for her.) 

So, yeah, Lexa’s been completely okay with the way their relationship was progressing. Buying Clarke flowers and gifts and dinners and holding the doors for her and carrying her to the bed when she fell asleep during a tv show marathon - it was fine. More than fine. Comfortable. 

But right now, Clarke is knocking on her door, with a small bouquet in one hand and car keys in another, and there is a new kind of nervous anticipation in Lexa’s fingertips when she throws one last look in a mirror and nods at her dressed-up self before reaching for the doorknob. 

“Fuck, you look amazing,” are the first words Clarke utters when she lays her eyes on Lexa’s tailored suit, its dark blue color complementing the tight dress Clarke has on. 

Lexa smirks. “I look like always.” 

Clarke gives Lexa the flowers and smoothes her hands over her shoulders, down her chest. Fiddles with her tie, appreciating the Eldredge knot Lexa decided to go with tonight. “Exactly,” she purrs into her lips before catching them in an unhurried greeting kiss. Lexa struggles not to deepen it; Clarke has a plan for tonight, and she doesn’t want to spoil it by dragging the blonde into her bed this early. 

It takes a tremendous effort on her part, though. Just for the record. Clarke smells and tastes incredible - fresh and sweet - and she’s careful not to wrinkle her dress where she places her hands on her waist, trying not to stray lower. 

“Hi,” Clarke whispers when they part. 

 

“Hi,” she replies, perfectly aware of a doped smile on her lips. “You look incredible, as well.” 

“Thanks, babe,’ Clarke says easily, pecking her lips again and taking her hand. “Now move. We have a busy night ahead.” 

Lexa raises an amused eyebrow at her girlfriend, who is now just as tall as her, thanks to her tasteful heels. “Do we, now?” She watches her nod her head enthusiastically, a couple of blonde curls framing her face. 

“Yup. So we gotta hurry.” 

Lexa complies, and she jumps only a little when Clarke slaps her ass on their way out, eyes sparkling and lower lip caught between white teeth.

I don’t know what this is about, but I think I’m starting to like it.

When Clarke holds the car door open for her to climb in the passenger seat, it finally clicks, and she barely manages to catch her laughter before it spills. Oh, Clarke.

(She absolutely reaches over and opens the door for Clarke, too.) 

// 

“I had a great time tonight,” she lets Clarke know when they leave the restaurant hand in hand. She did. they talked and talked and joked and laughed and Clarke used ridiculous come-ons and pick-up lines on her, barely talking through her own laughter, and it all felt perfect.

“Good,” Clarke says. “Because it’s far from over.” Her smirk grows even more mischievous than before. “When was the last time you were in a movie theater?” 

Lexa feels her eyebrows practically fly up to her hairline. “A movie? Really?” 

“Uh-huh.” 

“But, Clarke,” she protests weakly, smoothing her thumb across the back of Clarke’s hand she’s holding. “There’s nothing good on.” 

“Oh, baby,” Clarke snickers, licking her lips. “Do you really think we’ll be watching the screen?” 

Oh. 

Oh.

“They will kick us out.” 

“Only if they catch us.”

No one catches them. Lexa comes with her lips bitten to muffle her moans, with her zipper pulled down and her panties pushed to the side and with Clarke’s hand between her legs, fingers steadily pressing on her clit. When they stumble from the theater, Clarke licks her from her fingertips and shares the taste with her, the kiss dirty and harsh.

“I bet you really wanna fuck me,” she whispers in her ear when she breaks the kiss first, arms looped around Lexa’s waist. 

Lexa can only nod, and Clarke smirks. “Too fucking bad,” she says. “I’m not done with you. Not even close.” 

//

She wasn’t joking. 

“Clarke,” Lexa pants, her nails digging into flesh. “I don’t - I don’t think I can, not again-”

“You can and you will,” Clarke whispers hotly into her mouth, her hand holding Lexa up in the most intimate of ways. She angles her fingers just a little more upward, thrusts just a little deeper, and Lexa feels like she’s losing her mind. Maybe she’s already lost it, and the only thing keeping her sane and making her mad at the same time is the girl on top of her. “Come on, baby,” her voice grows softer, and there is a flicker of her usual Clarke in them, brilliant blue hazy and dark. “Come for me.” 

Lexa does. 

//

She laughs when she wakes up to Clarke’s old hoodie carefully thrown on a chair near the bed so it looks carelessly placed. Noted, she thinks to herself. I guess that’s what I’ll cook breakfast in. And, oh, does she owe Clarke breakfast.

Clarke’s warm and sleepy, and Lexa can’t stop inhaling her scent, pressing her nose where Clarke’s neck meets her shoulder and smiling when she feels her arms tighten around her.

“Why didn’t you wear a suit last night?” she asks Clarke when she’s finished with her bacon and eggs. “I’d expect you to take this role reversal a little further.” 

Clarke laughs, and smudges a bit of grape jelly on the corner of Lexa’s mouth where she kisses her, chaste and tender. “It wasn’t about me being you for a day, Lex,” she says. “I just wanted to take care of you the way you take care of me. Besides, suits aren’t my thing.” 

“Nonsense. It can be anyone’s thing.” 

“Well,” Clarke says, lacing their fingers together and feeding Lexa a piece of her toast. She carefully takes it with her lips. Subtly licks at Clarke’s fingers and watches blue eyes darken just a tiny bit. “Well,” Clarke repeats. “You can show me, today. We’re going shopping. Prepare to be spoiled.” 

“Clarke. You don’t have to.” 

“I know,” her girlfriend replies easily. “You never have to, either. That’s the whole point.” Lexa knows it’s no use arguing with her over this. Not when her mouth is set in a determined - adorable - pout and her nose is wrinkled in concentration. 

“Fine,” she rolls her eyes fondly. “I do need a couple of new vests.” 

“And I did always want to fuck you in a fitting room.” 

She laughs in spite of herself. “Clarke! We’ll get kicked out.”

Clarke’s lips are insistent against her own. “Only if they catch us.” 

They do - but that’s a whole other story. In this one, Lexa lets Clarke roll her onto her back and accepts small, urgent kisses raining on her neck with a happy sigh. 

She certainly likes it, she decides. Definitely wouldn’t be opposed to a repeat performance.


End file.
